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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792266">Commotion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/casastella/pseuds/casastella'>casastella</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>War of Hearts [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Military, Blood and Injury, I call this Semishira being shits to each other, M/M, Military Training, War, brief mention of PTSD, seriously fists get thrown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:35:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,278</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/casastella/pseuds/casastella</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in years, Semi had found a home and a stability among the Shiratorizawa Special Ops Unit. He had good friends and the freedom to execute missions how he saw fit without strict orders keeping his hands tied and eyes blind. </p><p> Then along came Shirabu, who threatened to destroy that stability. Shirabu, who revelled in plucking at Semi's nerves and made his blood boil. Shirabu, whom Semi was assigned to train in combat.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>War of Hearts [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Commotion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, Semishira nation! Happy Semishira day! </p><p>I just need to straight up say that this series of fics will centre around the conflict of war, but this will NOT be the focus. This work of fiction is not meant to glorify war or romanticise in any way. That is not my intention at all.</p><p>This first fic is intended as an introduction to the setting and the characters. I think I have tagged what I needed to but please do let me know if I've missed anything.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> They plucked Semi right off the front lines and dropped him at a dingy little compound that was halfway to oblivion, right next to a larger set of barracks all encircled by barb-wired fences.</p><p> <em>This is your new assignment</em>, they said. <em>General Washijou is putting together a new Shiratorizawa Special Operations Unit and you are officially a part of it.</em></p><p> And that was that.</p><p> Washijou Tanji was a famous name to anyone who was anyone, and Semi hadn’t made it through six years in the military without being threatened to be sent to the feared General at least a dozen times. But Semi learnt very quickly that this unit would be unlike anything the military had ever seen before, not even the one that fell seven years ago, under the same name.</p><p> No, General Washijou hadn’t picked the best of the best soldiers the way they did last time. After all, Semi wouldn’t be here otherwise. Neither would anyone else on the line-up, with the exception of Ushijima Wakatoshi. No, General Washijou had hand-picked each and every one but his idea of a tac team was…interesting. </p><p> There was Tendou Satori, whose goofy smile in the most serious of situations was comforting at best and creepy at worst. Despite being a self-proclaimed explosive enthusiast, he was chosen for his gut instincts and making the right calls on the field.</p><p> Yamagata was a national kyudo champion before he enlisted during the war and Semi quickly learnt that even though Hayato’s jokes never hit target, he never missed with a rifle. If Semi thought he'd mis-stepped in the field, Hayato had already covered him with his trusty sniper.</p><p> Taichi was tall and lanky and he barely moved. He probably wouldn’t breathe if he didn’t have to. But despite his general sloth-like stature, at a computer, his fingers moved faster than the speed of light. He once hacked into the Pentagon because he was bored.</p><p> Then there was Goshiki whose face still belonged to a child and the bowl cut didn’t help. But the kid could drive anything he got his hands on, from cars to bikes, to hovers to choppers. If it had the potential to move, he would <em>make</em> it.</p><p> Reon was a surprise recruit who hadn’t cleared his psych evac for fieldwork but he made mean machine guns and hyper-precise long-range snipers. Something wrong with your blaster rifle? Reon could fix it. Want more firepower? Reon’s got it. Rumour had it that he could make a gun out of plastic bottles.</p><p> Semi’s speciality? Knives. Blades. Sharp things. Semi’s prized possession was a pocketknife that never left his person, gifted to him by someone from an old life. He took pride in holding the record for highest body count in close combat – unofficially.</p><p> Of everyone on the team, Ushijima was the closest to what one would expect on an elite team like Shiratorizawa. He was the perfect soldier; selfless, honourable, strong in every sense of the word and was a humble but powerful leader that made even Semi immediately respect him.</p><p> There were seven of them. Semi slowly learnt to work together with everyone and integrated himself into the team. Despite his never-ending list of discipline issues, Semi found a home among people just as free-spirited. When he was first recruited, he’d dreaded the inevitability of stricter regimes, the barking orders with zero room for eye-rolls, much less insubordination he’d once subjected his other commanding officers to. But Washijou simply gave him all the weapons he asked for and the freedom to use them how he pleased. His only order was to get the job done.</p><p> So Semi found a stability.</p><p> And Shirabu Kenjirou threatened to destroy it.</p><p> The eighth member of unit dropped out of buttfuck nowhere four months after everyone else, strolling into the compounds after Washijou. He was young, maybe as young as Goshiki even, but he carried himself like he alone held responsibility of saving the world. He assessed each and every one of them from head to toe with a dispassionate gaze like they were dirt on his shoes as Washijou announced that the team was getting its newest and final member.</p><p> Semi was under the impression that seven was enough. And apparently he made this sentiment known.</p><p> All eyes turned to him, some in surprise, some in amusement. Washijou’s were unimpressed and Shirabu’s cold gaze lingered long on Semi.</p><p> “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”</p><p> He truly didn’t, no matter how much his skin already crawled at Shirabu’s mere presence. He’d developed a habit of mumbling sarcastically under his breath that he no longer recognised when he did it.</p><p> Shirabu kept looking at him.</p><p> Washijou said, “It’s good that you didn’t mean it like that, because you’ll be his combat trainer.” He didn’t give Semi time to process that before he continued, “Reon, you’re on weapons and physical training duty and Kawanishi on battle simulations. I’ll oversee the training but it’s up to you three to bring him up to date and field ready in three weeks.”</p><p> Semi floundered, still unsure whether he heard correctly. Judging by Tendou’s snigger, he probably did.</p><p> Washijou didn’t stay long after that and instead left Shirabu in the team’s care. They all introduced themselves and when it was Semi’s turn, he stuck out a hand.</p><p> “Semi Eita,” he said. “Good to have you on board.”</p><p> Shirabu gave a firm shake once. “I thought seven was enough.”</p><p> Before Semi could even think of spluttering out a response, Shirabu had already moved onto bowing to Ushijima. Semi could only gape as Tendou crowed in laughter.</p><p> As the others whipped Shirabu around the compound as some sort of orientation, Semi stayed behind with Tendou, watching with wary eyes as Shirabu and his weird bangs stepped into Semi’s home and he couldn’t decide if Shirabu was a welcomed guest or not.</p><p> Tendou sang, “Looks like Semisemi just met his match.”</p><p>~</p><p> Most of the time, the squad was deep in action where duty called for days at a time, attempting to expand their little corner of freedom salvaged from invaders’ hands and protecting their hard-earned safety. Unless more than one member was out of commission from injury, long periods of rest was a rarity. The fact that Washijou had given them nearly a month just to assimilate Shirabu into the team was a shock.</p><p> The next day, Semi arrived in the training room early to loosen himself first. Washijou’s instructions were, “Teach him how to not die,” which was a very broad category and Semi was, evidently, good at not dying. So he knew a fair few ways to do that and he didn’t know where to start.</p><p> He was in the middle of retracing steps from his basic training when the door whirred open and Shirabu marched in almost robotically, wearing all-black clothes they were all given first day on this job. Semi couldn’t tell yesterday but under baggy clothes, Shirabu was smaller than he first thought. Not short, but not very big either.</p><p> “Hey,” Semi said in greeting.</p><p> Shirabu nodded. “Semi-san.”</p><p> <em>San.</em> That was weird. “You know don’t you have to wear the issued clothes in the compound, right? We’re off-duty now.”</p><p> He strolled up to the middle of the room where Semi had laid out some thin sparring mats. “This is all I own,” he said simply as he toed off his shoes and socks, stepping on.</p><p> “All you own? What, were you deployed when they picked you up too?”</p><p> “No, I was in prison.”</p><p> Semi closed his mouth. He scanned Shirabu’s deadpan face for any sign of humour but the dude didn’t seem to have a single visible funny fibre in his body. He asked slowly, “Like… Prison guard or… You were <em>in</em> prison?”</p><p> “I said I was in prison.”</p><p> “All right, not need to be pissy.”</p><p> Shirabu rolled his eyes, jaw ticking. “With all due respect, you’re meant to train me so let’s get to that part please.”</p><p> Semi decided right then that he didn’t like Shirabu’s attitude. Yes, Semi knew he himself had an attitude problem but Shirabu’s problem was a whole different kind that seemed to only be directed at him and none other. At breakfast this morning, Shirabu got along just fine with Kawanishi and even Yamagata, the social butterfly who tried too hard to be liked by people.</p><p> Semi pressed his lips together and sucked on his teeth. Then he let his lips go with a pop. “Fine. I want to assess what you know first. Attack me.”</p><p> Before Semi even made it to the centre of the mat to get into position, a <em>thwak</em> on his jaw had him slamming onto the mat. He spun and stared up at Shirabu who had his fists raised in front of him, ready to sucker punch Semi again.</p><p> “What the fuck was that for!” he cried, holding his jaw.</p><p> Shirabu still hadn’t put his arms down. “You told me to attack you.”</p><p> “Yeah, when I’m <em>on</em> the fucking mat! That was a dick move.”</p><p> Shirabu shrugged. “I’ve been told that anything goes in this team.”</p><p> Semi was actually going to kick this fucker’s ass and his expressionless face. If there was ever a chance he was going to go easy on Shirabu, that train had left the station. He jumped onto his feet. “Not against each other.” He motioned with a hand for Shirabu to make his next move.</p><p> Now that Semi knew what to expect, Shirabu had a whole other thing coming for him. He scanned Semi’s posture quickly and threw a punch. Semi dodged then caught his wrist fast and flipped him to the floor, knee on the small of Shirabu’s back to keep him down.</p><p> “That was easier than I thought. Here’s a tip; start with good footing.” He lifted his knee. “Again.”</p><p> Shirabu repositioned himself with a spectacular glare that could melt Semi’s face off. This time he let Shirabu make a few swings and advance towards him before he dropped low and swept Shirabu’s feet out.</p><p> “Footing,” he repeated, but Shirabu only went down so easily because he wasn’t very heavy. Anyone like Ushijima or even Tendou would prove more difficult.</p><p> “What does that mean?” Shirabu growled, dragging himself up once more.</p><p> Semi sighed in exasperation. “Don’t lift a foot until you have the other one planted firmly on the ground. Feet shoulder-width apart. It’s pretty self-explanatory.”</p><p> Shirabu breathed in heavily and released it heavily as if he was drawing strength from the gods to not throttle Semi right there. Semi motioned for another attack. This time Shirabu seemed to consider his options carefully, circling each other. Then he decided that if his punches weren’t working, he’d kick instead. His leg came winding up in a roundhouse kick to the head and Semi dodged. Before that leg touched the floor again, he’d placed soft punches on Shirabu’s side and back in quick succession.</p><p> “If I had knives on me, you’d be dead.”</p><p> Semi considered the way Shirabu got back into position. Aside from footing, his stance was good. Actual punching and kicking itself wasn’t bad either but Shirabu distinctly lacked <em>something</em>.</p><p> “What division were you in before prison?” Semi asked.</p><p> “Biotech,” Shirabu gritted out. “I’m a doctor.”</p><p> Semi blinked. Out of everyone, Washijou had recruited a doctor, someone who had probably never even <em>seen</em> a battlefield, to be on this elite team. “Military doctor?”</p><p> Shirabu nodded. No wonder he fought like a textbook instruction.</p><p> “Pretty young for a doctor,” Semi chose to say instead, some kind of twisted relief taking residence in his chest.</p><p> “I’m old enough.”</p><p> “Okay then, old man. I want to see your defence and counter.”</p><p> Just to be a dick, Semi struck before Shirabu was ready, right on the jaw exactly where he punched Semi. It was not hard enough that he went down but enough to make Shirabu hiss in pain.</p><p> “Really?” he said. “I should’ve known you’d be this petty.”</p><p> Semi shrugged. “Never said I wasn’t. Now get ready.”</p><p> When Semi swung next, Shirabu managed to get out of the trajectory but not enough to counter. They were simple punches and Semi tried his best to show different ways to block and counter but this should’ve been nothing new. Even military doctors were required to complete basic training but Shirabu seemed to have trouble following Semi’s lead.</p><p> This was almost like Semi’s own initial days when no one else was competent enough to follow simple instructions. Call it different upbringing or whatever but punching wasn’t fucking hard. Neither was blocking. Semi had been doing it on a regular basis since he was fourteen so why couldn’t a grown man do this right?</p><p> “No, don’t push that way,” he repeated for the umpteenth time. “That exposes my body to yours and I can knock you out with this fist instead. Do you <em>want</em> me to knock you out?”</p><p> Shirabu barked back, “If it’ll save me from your shitty instructions, then yes!”</p><p> “How much clearer do you want me to be? Don’t. Block. Like. That.”</p><p> Out of nowhere, Shirabu landed a blow in Semi’s on the abdomen, below his ribs on the right side and he dropped to the floor with a grunt as pain flared.</p><p> “That,” Shirabu spat, “is your liver. I might not know how to block a punch properly but I know how to hurt you. I’m leaving.”</p><p> Semi wanted to throw his shoe at Shirabu’s retreating back.</p><p>~</p><p> In the days following, Washijou’s intentions for Shirabu became clearer. He gave the doctor a room to use as a laboratory and had a bunch of crap transported to the compound. The ‘crap’ were mechanical body parts, wires, sheets of metal, agar gel – whatever that was – and installed different machines in the laboratory.</p><p> Shirabu, Semi discovered, was a prodigy in his own right. He was apparently the first and only person to have designed prosthetics that flawlessly integrated with the nervous system or whatever before his whole prison adventure, the details of which Semi was yet to uncover.</p><p> (He still maintained that a doctor wasn’t an absolute necessity on a team like this. All of them were capable of performing first aid.)</p><p> When Shirabu wasn’t training with Semi, Reon or Kawanishi, he was in the lab. One time Semi saw him wheel a cadaver into the room and that had deterred Semi from ever wanting to peer inside. He had zero qualms about <em>making</em> corpses but digging around in preserved corpses was not his thing.</p><p> His thing was in the training room, and far too often these days, it involved Shirabu too.</p><p> This entire thing was ridiculous. When Shirabu trained in weaponry and obstacle courses, he simply nodded and did as he was told, fixed what he needed to. Semi thought it might’ve been the difference in approach between him and Reon but when he saw Taichi, he was proven wrong. Strapped into headsets, Taichi talked as much shit to Shirabu as Semi did. He even altered the designs of the simulations to make life more difficult, either by coding in more attackers to the scene or changing the environment entirely so that once-good shelters were no longer an option to seek cover behind.</p><p> Semi watched the screens from the outside the room as Shirabu manipulated through each scene, firing diligently at enemies, swearing occasionally, shooting back good-natured insults at Taichi. Hell, he even looked like he was having fun.</p><p> All of that went out the window when he was with Semi.</p><p> Tendou had called it ‘hate at first sight’, followed up by a remark that Semi couldn’t hear. Semi didn’t <em>hate</em> Shirabu. He was just frustrated and annoyed.</p><p> “If you keep coming at me like that, I’m going to start actually taking you down,” Semi warned.</p><p> “I was under the impression that beating me up was always your true goal.”</p><p> “If it was, you would’ve died the minute you stepped foot in the room. Stop talking. Defend your critical spots.”</p><p> “It’d be great if you actually taught me how to defend them.”</p><p> “I did!”</p><p> Shirabu threw his hands into the air in fury. “You said, and I quote, ‘Don’t let your opponent touch you.’ That is not teaching!”</p><p> “Don’t you have any ounce of instinct on you?”</p><p> “Instinct is for people who have no logic.”</p><p> “Jesus fucking Christ!”</p><p> This was the basis of their training sessions. Washijou sometimes watched from the sidelines and when he was here, the insults were not quite as scathing and some progress was made in the right direction. But General Washijou was a busy man, what with the entire country – and most of the world – in turmoil and the revolutionary movement looked to him for leadership and protection. More often than not, Washijou was absent and neither of them held anything back, especially not Shirabu.</p><p> Semi wasn’t sure how he learnt it, or if he’d simply connected the dots himself but Shirabu found a particular spot to hit at whenever something didn’t go his way in training, which was always. Not a physical spot, but a verbal one.</p><p> The first time he did it, Shirabu bit Semi’s arm until it almost bled. Semi had yelled at him for fighting dirty.</p><p> Shirabu simply spat on the floor and said, “As if you don’t. The General only picked you because you fight dirty to get what you want.”</p><p> If he had stopped there, Semi would’ve dismissed the statement because it was true. No matter whatever code or protocol the military pretended to enforce, there was no such thing as a clean, fair fight. Semi wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.</p><p> But Shirabu continued with, “You always have.”</p><p> At best, it sounded offhand and bitter. At worst, Semi’s blood boiled like a switch was flipped. “Yeah, what if I have? You and your pristine lab coat wouldn’t understand. You’ve never been in the streets.”</p><p> It was the last word that Shirabu held onto and used for subsequent blows, getting right under Semi’s skin and plucking at his nerves.</p><p> If the fights stayed contained within the training room, Semi might’ve been able to let things go. But even outside, Shirabu was an asshole to him. At mealtimes, Semi would offer to bring Shirabu’s plates out of good will and hopes of reconciliation. Then he’d get brushed off like lint from a coat and Semi would snap without meaning to, without realising, and suddenly it was an awkward dinner. Once, because Reon was busy, Semi offered to help him with the blaster rifles and Shirabu told him to leave him alone.</p><p> Everyone and their mothers had noticed their disdain for each other. Semi didn’t want to destroy the team’s rhythm just because they had issues so he tried to get along with Shirabu. He really did. It wasn’t his fault that everything that came out of Shirabu’s mouth was an insult that landed its mark every time.</p><p> “I don’t understand it,” he lamented to Tendou and Yamagata one night. “What have I ever done to him?”</p><p> “Aside from kicking, punching and choking him?” Yamagata asked.</p><p> “I’m meant to do that! Fuck, Taichi literally made an enemy throw a bomb at him!”</p><p> “In a simulation,” Tendou pointed out, finding this far too amusing. “Nobody gets hurt in a simulation, Semisemi, while you periodically threaten to carve him up in his sleep.”</p><p> “ONCE! It was once!” Semi couldn’t remember what they were arguing about anymore but he was so pissed that he may have yelled loud enough for the whole compound to hear.</p><p> “He’s actually not that bad,” Taichi piped in from the couches behind them, not looking up from the hologram in front of him. “A bit blunt but he’s pretty cool.”</p><p> “Cool,” Semi repeated dumbly.</p><p> Taichi spared a glance paired with a weird smile. “He can make dead people move.”</p><p> Semi shuddered.</p><p> Shirabu and Taichi often hung out in Shirabu’s lab and sometimes Taichi helped with wiring and programming cybernetics. That was as far as Semi wanted to know about what went on in that lab.</p><p> “Actually, Shirabu is a bit scary sometimes,” Yamagata said. “He looks at you like he’s going to start shooting lasers from his eyes.”</p><p> Semi slammed his hand on the table. “Exactly.”</p><p> Tendou rubbed his chin where a poor imitation of a goatee grew in patches. “I think he’s competitive.”</p><p> Semi and Yamagata looked at him for explanation.</p><p> “He hasn’t done anything competitive yet,” Tendou said, “but I get the feeling he is. That’s why he doesn’t get along with Semisemi, or with Tsutomu sometimes.”</p><p> “Wait, he doesn’t like Tsutomu?” Goshiki was the human embodiment of a cupcake. How could anyone <em>not</em> like Goshiki?</p><p> “Kenjirou finds him childish.” </p><p> “Is that why he gets along so well with Wakatoshi and Reon?” Semi mused. “Because they look mature?”</p><p> Yamagata snorted. “Reon, mature. Wait until the cards come out.”</p><p> The conversation delved into upgrades Reon was making to their arsenal of weapons and upcoming missions, Semi’s problems becoming so much smaller in comparison.</p><p> The next time Semi stepped into the training room was to find Wakatoshi and Shirabu already on the mat, Washijou standing by. The two of them grappled, Shirabu holding Ushijima in a choke from the back, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.</p><p> “What’s going on?” Semi asked.</p><p> Washijou said, “Shirabu has requested Ushijima train him instead. I’m supervising and it certainly seems to be quieter than with you so far.”</p><p> Ushijima tapped Shirabu’s arm and he let go. “You have to squeeze tighter on the enemy,” Ushijima said.</p><p> Shirabu nodded obediently. He glanced at Semi as if to laugh in his face, like, ‘Haha, I found someone better.’</p><p> Joke’s on him because no one was better than Semi at this, not even the legendary Ushijima.</p><p> Semi said to Washijou, “So I’m free?”</p><p> The General did not look happy. “I don’t care about your spats. Once you get out there, you better have each other’s backs and more importantly, get your job done well.”</p><p> With a final salute and a ‘<em>Yessir’</em> Semi skipped out of the room.</p><p>~</p><p> What was left of the country’s militant power worked together with civilian insurgents to claim back territory little by little. Three years ago, when war finally reached Japan’s shores, requests for aid all went unanswered, every country fighting their own battles. Help had not come and would not come for the foreseeable future.</p><p> Semi was a part of the front line troops that fought tooth and claw to defend the country’s borders. All they could do was defend, slowing down the inevitable conquer, territory lost to the enemy little by little until all troops were pulled back to Miyagi where a stronghold formed. They called themselves the Iron Wall. They had been able to keep it mostly impenetrable, borders sealed off and guarded vigorously.</p><p> Semi was stationed there, keeping the enemy out, filtering the refugees in, until he joined Shiratorizawa. The Shiratorizawa of old fought to bring down armed insurgent organisations that once plagued the country. This new Shiratorizawa was Japan’s first mount of attacks against their current overlords. Now, they were involved in search-and-rescue missions and systemic attacks on larger enemy bases.</p><p> Sometimes a couple of them would do quick recon missions to confirm Tendou’s gut feelings about enemy movement or where best to strike next. More often than not, it was Semi and Tendou on these missions.</p><p> Before Shirabu’s three weeks was up, Semi went on one to confirm that the enemy were indeed utilising old Shinkansen tunnels from the twenty-first century to transport weapons and supplies. The trains had stopped running years ago but the tunnels still connected the country, hidden from plain sight. With that, they had their next target.</p><p> Semi had a habit of spending excess energy in the training room after missions, usually at the punching bags. But sometimes Goshiki was a willing sparring partner, claiming he needed to get better and beat Ushijima. Being the only two to have come from military families, rivalry between them ran wild. At least in Goshiki’s head.</p><p> This time, he already waited for Semi there as he returned from a debriefing. As it happened, Ushijima and Shirabu were also in the room, practising escape from holds.</p><p> “They’re still here?” Semi groaned.</p><p> Goshiki nodded. “They’ve been here for a long time now. Shirabu-san has gotten much better.”</p><p> Semi watched for a couple minutes before deciding that Shirabu was indeed better and looked happier too. He smiled through his heavy huffs when he managed to land a hit in perfect spots or twisted himself out. Ushijima was obviously going easy, allowing him to actually learn, but Semi’s chest tightened nonetheless as Ushijima corrected something and Shirabu immediately got it.</p><p> “How was the recon?” Goshiki asked in excitement. “Are we going on another mission soon?”</p><p> Semi turned around. “Looks like it. Satori and Reon are with Washijou now.”</p><p> “Sweet! I fitted the jet with the new torpedoes that Reon-san gave me and I can’t wait to try them out.”</p><p> Semi didn’t rain on his parade by telling him that they probably weren’t going to destroy anything this time. They wanted to keep the tunnels intact for themselves.</p><p>~</p><p> The tunnels weren’t actually intact the further they went in. Parts of the walls and ceiling had collapsed a few hundred meters in and the rubble had been pushed to the side, leaving enough just space for a cargo vehicle to pass. The entirety of the tunnel was over fifteen kilometres long but only two kilometres of that was used to transport supplies from one territory to the next before surfacing on open ground on the other end, where the station had become an enemy base.</p><p> That was their target.</p><p> Semi and Tendou’s scouting mission had informed them that it was manned by a total of twenty-one soldiers, moderately armed from what they could see. An easy target for Shirabu’s first field work. He was dressed in full armour, newly appointed blaster rifle strapped across his back, a mic in one ear and red armband wrapped around his bicep to signify him as a medical officer. If any of his nerves were frayed, he was amazing at hiding it as he listened to Ushijima repeat instructions for the team to follow.</p><p> Then the captain turned to Shirabu only. “Stick with me.”</p><p> Something told Semi that Shirabu wouldn’t have a problem with that. If it were up to him, Shirabu would’ve remained at the compound and everyone would’ve undergone more rigorous team training before setting the new blood loose. But alas, Washijou deemed Shirabu as ready as he’d ever be.</p><p> “Approaching drop site,” Goshiki said into their headsets.</p><p> The hovercraft tilted as it descended then touched down between thickets of the forest. They were a kilometre out from the base and would have to travel the rest on foot.</p><p> “I’m getting chatter,” Taichi said, looking at the projection from his wrist. He started tapping away. “They picked up our hover signature. I’m blocking their outgoing transmissions so no back up for them but also no element of surprise for us.”</p><p> “Is that a problem?” Shirabu asked.</p><p> Yamagata patted his sniper case with a grin. “Nah, it’s more fun.”</p><p> Taichi released a drone in the air and asked into the headset, “Reon-san, do you have visual?”</p><p> Reon’s voice answered, “Affirmative.” Then the drone steered into the forests, Reon on his own mission to scope out traps.</p><p> The team set off on foot through the forest, the tunnels running right beneath their feet. Guns started firing as soon as the station came into view and they took temporary cover behind once-lit advert boards. Ushijima gave the signal. Semi, Yamagata and Goshiki nodded, pulling away from the team. Semi and Goshiki rounded to the back of the station, though with the way things were going, they might not even get to see action before it was all over.</p><p> At the back were three soldiers on guard and Semi took out one with a flick of his wrist and the whip of a blade in the air before embedding in a neck in a spurt of blood. Goshiki took care of the other two, hissing when his fringe almost got singed off with a laser bullet.</p><p> “Son of a bitch!” he spat.</p><p> “Language,” Semi said.</p><p> He and Goshiki rounded the station control rooms for any surprises, finding none. When they dropped in on the main crossfire again, their team was already returning fire.</p><p> Semi spared a moment to locate Shirabu behind an ad board, his hands steady on his gun, sharp eyes taking in everything, processing, pulling the trigger. Yamagata was up on the second floor balcony now, sniper set up but not using it. If he wanted to, Yamagata could’ve picked all twenty-one soldiers off one by one in a heartbeat but that wasn’t his job today. His job was to cover the ground troop and pick off anyone doing anything out of the ordinary.</p><p> When Semi dived onto the scene, jagged edge of his knife finding flesh of necks from behind, the soldiers whirled around, giving his team the opportunity to come out of cover for better shots.</p><p> Normally twenty-one was a number each of them could deal with in their sleep, would be over in less than three minutes. But with Shirabu here, everyone was keeping one eye on him and also allowing him to make his own shots and holy fuck, Semi just wanted this done with. He was here to fight a war, not babysit.</p><p> He slowed down in picking his next target, a man with beady eyes who fired at Semi in rapid succession. Semi threw up the plasma shield, but not before he took one to the chest, the impact throwing him back and burning at the reinforced Kevlar of his vest, but Semi got back up, watched the man’s eyes widen in fear when he darted at him full speed, knife finding flesh.</p><p> Everything was going fine, all on track. So fine in fact that the remaining five soldiers surrendered, begging to be spared and everything was over.</p><p> Shirabu and Tendou rounded them together on their knees as Ushijima and Taichi headed inside the control rooms to collect any information they could. Semi eyed Shirabu carefully as the doctor’s eyes passed from body to body, lingering on the ones that Semi’s knives found. It was impossible to discern what he was thinking. Was he praising Semi’s precision? Judging him for his weapon of choice? The brutality? Or was he disturbed?</p><p> Shirabu didn’t seem disturbed. He didn’t look much of anything for someone on his first field job. Semi’s first time in crossfire still woke him in cold sweat sometimes even years later when he’d seen and done worse. He’d come so close to losing his own life because all the rules he played by in the streets, all the training and punishment he went through afterwards did jackshit to prepare him for bloodbath. No amount of simulation would ever be the same as deafening gunshots and shouts or rubble giving way beneath his feet or his comrades – most of them he never got along with – falling in front of him.</p><p> Maybe it was just taking a while for Shirabu to take it all in. Semi sidled up to him.</p><p> “How are you doing?”</p><p> Shirabu side-eyed him. “Good.”</p><p> “You sure?”</p><p> “Yes.”</p><p> Semi paused and stared. “Why were you in prison?”</p><p> “Why do you want to know?”</p><p> “You seem a bit too calm about killing people.”</p><p> At that moment, Goshiki’s voice came from the entrance to the station, yelling, “Shirabu-san!”</p><p> Also at the moment, one of the prisoners on the ground leapt at Shirabu, fist flying, clasping something that glinted. Shirabu moved but the blade still caught his jaw in a short slash of red before the man came for him again, fist diving into the uncovered part of Shirabu’s stomach. Semi thought to let him handle the man, standing back as Shirabu slammed the butt of his rifle into the man’s jaw. Normally he would go down after a hit like that. But Semi noticed too late that the fist with the blade came swinging again, about to lodge itself in Shirabu’s side, a part that he should’ve been able to protect.</p><p> Before the blade met skin, the man flopped to the ground, bleeding from a hole in his head.</p><p> The remaining four looked up at the balcony where Yamagata’s sniper was trained on them.</p><p> Semi kicked the dead guy at his feet, heartbeat thundering in his ears. “Don’t be idiots,” he hissed to the other four.</p><p> Looking at Semi, still wet with blood, they seemed to get the message.</p><p> “You all right there, Kenjirou-kun?” Tendou called, nodding at the cut on Shirabu’s jaw.</p><p> Shirabu gave a curt nod, applying pressure to his jaw with the back of his hand. He frowned at the dead man and his thoughts were clear. They were all thinking it.</p><p> When they were all back at the compound that evening, Semi couldn’t punch the bag hard enough, not even after he’d stripped off the wraps around his hands. Knuckles bruised and cut, Semi turned to kicking, shins slamming into the leather again and again but nothing worked.</p><p> “Eita,” Tendou said from the next bag over, leaning against it, hair flopping with sweat. “Are you imagining Kenjirou as the punching bag?”</p><p> “No, why would I do that?”</p><p> “You have that face you get when you’re thinking about him. Your Kenjirou Face.”</p><p> Semi took a half-hearted swing at Tendou who hid behind his own bag with a shit eating grin.</p><p> “I do <em>not</em> have a Kenjirou Face. What the fuck even is that?”</p><p> “I don’t know, Semisemi. You’re the one who makes it.”</p><p> Semi <em>was</em> thinking about Shirabu, at least by extension. He was thinking about that moment when the knife – which was not very long at all – came swinging at Shirabu and how he should’ve easily been able to block and counter. Instead it was an inch away from sinking into him. Semi recognised that as an Ushijima move; relying not so much on blocking but rather on using his own strength and the opponent’s force against them. It worked for someone like Ushijima but not for Shirabu.</p><p> “He wasn’t going to die, you know?” Tendou said. He rotated his neck in a circle with a crack, followed by his long spindly fingers. “It was a tiny knife and the guy had nowhere good to put it. He was just an idiot, or had a death wish.”</p><p> “I know that.” But this was the first time, the easiest time. What else next? The team went on mission that demanded them to be up-close and personal with their enemy and whoever took the least beating while giving the most were the winners. How many times had Semi himself gotten his face bashed in? Too many and if Shirabu couldn’t cover himself, the kid was going to die sooner rather than later.</p><p> “Your Kenjirou Face just got stronger. What are you thinking?”</p><p> “Something stupid.”</p><p> Semi marched out of the training room on bare feet, Tendou’s dramatic sigh following him down the hallway.</p><p> He ended up at Shirabu’s lab but he wasn’t there. So Semi headed for the kitchen, then Shirabu’s room, finding him at neither. Taichi directed him to the bathrooms so Semi dragged himself there, bare feet slapping on tiles. Sure enough, Shirabu was in here, in front of the mirrors with only a towel around his hips, first aid kit open on the counters. His hair was pushed back, still dripping onto his freckled shoulders, droplets rolling between the planes of his pale back.</p><p> When Semi stormed in, Shirabu paused his hands mid-air, a steri strip stuck to one finger. Two strips already sealed part of his wound. </p><p> The irony of a doctor’s first patient being himself was not lost on Semi.</p><p> “You know why that guy picked you out of all of us?” Semi asked.</p><p> “Because he could tell I’m inexperienced.”</p><p> “Exactly. If it wasn’t for Hayato, that wouldn’t be your only wound today.”</p><p> Shirabu’s lips pursed, eyes darkened. He stuck the steri strip onto the counter before he looked at Semi again. “I don’t belong on this team, right? I should quit and let you go about your own life so you can hide your insecurities better when I’m not here.”</p><p> “Hey,” Semi snapped. “I’m trying to help you so stop being an ass to me for two seconds. What you’re doing with Wakatoshi isn’t working for you.”</p><p> “It’s better than you. All you did was get me to try and beat you so you could stroke your own ego when I couldn’t.”</p><p> Semi should just turn around and pretend this conversation never happened because there he was, telling himself that he didn’t hate Shirabu when in fact, he did. He hated Shirabu so much that he wanted to pull out his own teeth one by one, and then Shirabu’s. But he took a deep breath, curled and uncurled his fingers slowly.</p><p> “Maybe I did. Or maybe you just suck. I don’t care. Starting tomorrow, I’m training you again.”</p><p> Shirabu stared and Semi stared back just as hard, delving into a contest of who could be more stubborn, neither moving. A shower plopped…plopped…plopped in the background.</p><p> Shirabu looked away first, glowering lower on Semi’s torso where a bruise bloomed red and purple beneath his shirt.</p><p> “Are you going to teach me how to charge headfirst at a gun?” he said.</p><p> “If you want.”</p><p> “I value my life.”</p><p> “Then I’m training you starting tomorrow. 1300 hours, be there.”</p><p> Semi left without waiting for confirmation.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yaaahhh I finally posted it! If you follow me on twitter, you'd know this as the fuck buddies au, except there is no fucking yet.... oops. That happens in the second fic, which is multi-chaptered and I've almost finished drafting it. Hopefully I get around to start posting it by next week. </p><p>Thank you so much for reading, and I apologise if this fic is a bit boring but I just needed to get them all out before I can start on the real deal. Kudos and comments are always very much appreciated and you can yell with me on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/casastella_">@casastella_</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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